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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568477">Midas Touch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee'>Creme13rulee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood and Injury, Complete, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, One Shot, Strangers to Lovers, blessed prince Viktor, cursed prince Yuuri, touch-starved Yuuri Katsuki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:29:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme13rulee/pseuds/Creme13rulee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Yuuri grew up the crown prince of Hasetsu, cursed since his day of birth by the words of the witch who blessed him “The life of everything he touches will belong to him.”  Victor grew up the only prince of Petersburg, blessed with protection charms and the words “Everything he touches will become like gold.” It took them a lifetime to realize the words, but only a night to fall in love<br/>Complete.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Midas Touch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Viktor stared at the visitor from across the ballroom, tipping a wine glass to his lips. </p><p>“Bedroom eyes don’t work through the back of the head, cherie.” Chris chuckled. “Go talk to him.”  Chris downed the last sip of his glass of white wine. “You are the host, after all.”</p><p>“Every time I get close someone gets in the way,” Viktor pouted, rolling his glass in his hand. His white  silk coat was stiff--  the dark blue vest underneath it had boning in it, per his request. But Viktor hadn’t thought that he would be sighing longingly this much.  He  knew that there were guests-- the prince of Phuket, Hasetsu and a delegation from his kingdom’s closest allies.  But Viktor had met them before, and this was the first official visit of the crown prince.  Viktor recognized the king and queen-- who always smelled like sea salt and brown sugar. But the prince had never come.</p><p>Until today.</p><p>Viktor was a simple man. He didn’t know he had a type until that evening.  That was wrong-- he knew his type, but those people only lived between the pages of a book.  Soft and graceful, with dark hair and gentle eyes and-- oh, Prince Yuuri was it.</p><p>“What are you doing being a wallflower?” Mila swept up to  Viktor and Chris, all skirts, rosy cheeks and youth. “I never thought I’d see it.”</p><p>“He hasn’t all night.” Viktor didn’t move his gaze. Mila turned, following it across the ballroom and marble floor.</p><p>“Oh, the cursed prince? He never dances.” Mila set her hand on her hip, staring at him.  He was wearing more Petersburg-appropriate clothing-- a navy blue silk waistcoat, with a black vest embroidered with his family crest over the breast. He stood with his hands folded neatly  behind him, resting in the small of his back, his arms bent perfectly square.  Before tonight, Viktor only knew him from the official family portrait when he visited Hasetsu  five years prior.  The painting had been soft-faced and young, but the prince standing there was  lean and gracefulness personified. </p><p>“Cursed?” Chris repeated, leaning over with a fresh glass of wine.</p><p>“Yeah. See his gloves? He’s had them forever. Something about.. If he touches something, it’ll die.” Mila frowned.  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Chris watched his closest friend, raising  an eyebrow.  “Viktor, do not. This is not one of your books.”</p><p>He sighed, shaking his head as Viktor crossed the ballroom, setting his glass on the tray of a star-struck waitress on the way.</p><p>Yuuri’s eyes lifted when Viktor approached, his soft honey-brown widening in surprise.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello!” Viktor tried his most dazzling smile. </p><p>“Prince Nikiforov…” Yuuri bowed his head in respect. “It’s an honor.”</p><p>Viktor held out his hand.  “Prince…” He faltered, his mind going blank.  Yuuri stared at his hands but made no move to take them.</p><p>“Katsuki Yuuri.” The prince smiled softly, his eyes kind.</p><p>“Yuuri.” Viktor forced a smile. “May I have this dance?”  </p><p>“What?” His cheeks flushed pink. “I…”</p><p>“It would be my honor.”  Viktor tilted his head toward the dance floor.  Nearly everything worked out for him-- his birth blessing had imbued him with life-long success. The witch present at his ceremony had told  Viktor’s mother “Everything he touches will become like gold.”  Magic had its way with words-- sometimes it was literal and unfortunate-- but Victor had benefitted from his. </p><p>“If it touches you, it will be fine, right?” Viktor held out his hand again, and Yuuri hesitantly held out his own.  The kid leather gloves were still beautifully clean-- white and finely soft, but thick enough that the heat from Yuuri’s hands did not travel through them. They buttoned at the wrist, just under his coat  cuff.</p><p>Viktor led Yuuri onto the dance floor. Despite never dancing in public, Yuuri was a natural. He responded to the pressure of Viktor’s hands, falling back and moving forward perfectly. The song changed, and Yuuri took the lead, as was custom.  A smile slowly bloomed on his face and lit up his eyes as they moved across the floor.</p><p>“I hope your stay in Petersburg has been enjoyable.” Viktor finally found the mind to form words instead of staring at Prince Yuuri’s perfect eyebrows and thick eyelashes.</p><p>“It has. I enjoyed the royal dog show. Makkachin is a delight to behold.”</p><p>“You like dogs?” Viktor’s eyes sparkled.  “Makkachin is like my own child. I raised her myself, from the day she weaned off milk.”</p><p>“Yes, I enjoy dogs. They seem like great company.”</p><p>“Seem? I seem to remember Hasetsu having their own Akita bloodline in the past.” Viktor kicked himself mentally-- he was blundering into another corner.</p><p>Yuuri’s smile turned polite as he led Viktor into a turn. “I was careless when I was younger, and it’s unfair to deny a good dog a pet.”</p><p>“Oh.” Viktor followed Yuuri’s lead into a dip-- his hand warm around his waist and grounding before he lifted him onto his feet. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. Thank you.” Yuuri stepped back before Viktor noticed his mother approaching from behind. </p><p>“Vitya, you do embarrass me. Dancing with the prince before greeting his family.” The queen touched her son’s elbow. Yuuri folded his hands behind himself again, as if it was as natural as standing at rest.  King Toshiya and Queen Hiroko followed close behind, but neither touched Yuuri.</p><p>“I’m sorry-- I was enjoying myself far too much.” Viktor bowed-- deeper than Yuuri had to him. But these were his elders.  Hiroko laughed sweetly as Viktor took her hand and kissed the back of it lightly.</p><p>“I could see.” Hiroko mused, while Toshiya muttered something in their native language-- something enough to make Yuuri turn red. “I do appreciate you,  Viktor. You are a wonderful host. Thank you for showing my son such kindness.”</p><p>It was Viktor’s turn to flush.  “To be honest, I would enjoy showing more kindness to him…” Viktor said it before he could catch himself. “If my mother could excuse me from my duties, that is.”</p><p>The queen rose a silver eyebrow. “You may have an hour.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>   </p>
</div><p>Viktor tugged Yuuri down the stone path to the rose garden, the way lit by strung lanterns. It was long since dark, but Viktor knew the area well. He opened the door to his sitting room, whistling three notes. It took three seconds before Makkachin barrelled out, jumping up to kiss Viktor's face.</p><p>“I have a friend to play with you, baby,” Viktor cooed, holding her paws in his hands. Her ears perked, and she bounded over to the other prince. He stiffened, his arms firmly behind his back as Makkachin jumped onto him and bowled him over onto the grass.</p><p>“Oh no-- I’m so sorry! She only does that to me!” Viktor winced-- he had fallen with his arms underneath him, which meant he had to have hurt himself.</p><p>But Yuuri laughed instead, a bright smile lighting up his face as Makkachin licked his face, knocking his sapphire blue spectacles askew on his face.</p><p>Viktor’s heart pounded in his chest, his stomach doing an odd little flip when Yuuri nuzzled his face into Makka’s curly fur and laughed.  Makka wriggled like a worm, pressing her body into Yuuri and begging to be pet. But Yuuri sat on his hands and pressed kisses to the top of the poodle’s head.</p><p>“You are allowed to pet her,” Viktor’s voice came out a little more squeakily than he meant to.</p><p>“I have to be careful.” Yuuri said, his smile bright but his tone bittersweet.</p><p>“I’ll… have to help you then.” Viktor stepped closer, before he knelt and scratched Makkachin, patting her just the way she loved. She turned her head to give him a generous lick, before turning back to Yuuri,  kissing them back and forth.</p><p>“I’m in love,” Yuuri laughed after a particularly slobbery kiss.</p><p>Viktor thought ‘Me too.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> </p>
</div><p>“Don’t act like nothing happened, Yuuri--- we ALL saw you leave together.” Phichit leaned in with a mischievous smile, his hands resting on the small of his back.  They had returned for closing remarks and the last dance, and Phichit had found him before he made it out the first doorway. Yuuri had no escape-- they were both staying in the same wing of the guest quarters, and he was his best friend.</p><p>“We just talked and pet his dog.” Yuuri bowed his head and flushed a deeper red despite himself.</p><p>“But you danced. He touched your arm, right? His birth blessing must’ve rubbed off on you somehow. You guys danced for longer than anyone else.”</p><p>Yuuri shook his head, his collar suddenly feeling a little too tight and warm. “I didn’t have any skin contact. You know that.”</p><p>Phichit’s smile fell. “So nothing...spicy… happened?” </p><p>Yuuri’s fond expression did not escape him, buoying his mood back to its normal pep.</p><p>“No, Phichit.” Yuuri bit back a small, private smile.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>  </p>
</div><p>Viktor kept Yuuri’s late letter folded and tucked into his breast pocket the entire two-week journey to Hasetsu.  While most civilians could use a mage service to fly, royal families rarely did so.  Magic services had declined even further after Prince Yuuri’s birth blessing.  Even if Viktor himself wasn’t afraid, there were still customs to abide by. Instead of getting frustrated by the snails pace of the steam engine and boat, he focused on seeing Yuuri’s face again to keep his mood up.</p><p>Which ended up being much harder when Princess Mari greeted them, then the Queen and King  and the cadre of representatives that worked with Petersburg. </p><p>“I’m sure your travel has been long and tiring. Our staff has set a lunch in your rooms so that you may rest and settle.” Mari bowed at the waist, and the formal meeting dispersed as the staff went their separate ways.  Viktor turned, abandoning his mother to trail after Mari.</p><p>“Is Yuuri okay?” He blurted, ignoring all propriety. But Mari didn’t look offended one bit.</p><p>“He’s in his room, as always.” She motioned toward another hallway.  “He avoids crowds.”</p><p>Viktor bowed quickly in thanks, before he followed her directions down the hall. He bounced on his heels while the guards and his attendants conversed, before they announced his title and swung open the doors.</p><p>“Yuuri!” Viktor rushed in, his heart full nearly to bursting. He swept him up into a bear hug, realizing a moment later how stiff  and still Yuuri was.</p><p>“Yuuri?” Viktor questioned-- he could feel Yuuri’s heart beating rapidly against his. This was not the warm welcome he was expecting.</p><p>“Don’t move.” Yuuri’s voice wasn’t cold, but tight.  He slipped into his mother tongue, soft a melodic, and the guards moved around them.<br/>
“Why?” Viktor’s happiness soured into nerves. Had he misread the numerous letters they had exchanged?</p><p>“I need my gloves.” Yuuri shifted, ever so slightly as a guard, wearing their own thick gloves, slid fabric up over the princes’ forearms. Yuuri shook the wide sleeves of his haori down, and the room seemed to let out a collective breath.</p><p>“Sorry?” Viktor set Yuuri back onto the heel of his feet, pulling back together.  “I feel perfectly fine.”</p><p>“You were lucky.” Yuuri stared at his feet, fixing his sleeves. He was dressed like the rest of his family-- traditional Hasetsu robes, embroidered with the family crest and tied at the waist or hips.  Yuuri’s eyes flickered over him, as if checking for injury, his arms tucked chastely behind him.</p><p>“I have protection spells, Yuuri, of course I am.” Viktor laughed nervously. “I was just happy to see you-- don’t we know that your blessing  doesn’t work if someone touches you?”</p><p>“We don’t call it a blessing,” Yuuri murmured, his expression fond despite how sad he sounded. “Did you pay attention to your etiquette lessons?” He smiled, just slightly, his teasing just the same in person as it was in months of letters.</p><p>“No, of course not. I was too busy thinking of you.” Viktor returned Yuuri’s smile, feeling it growing wider with the flush on Yuuri’s soft cheeks. </p><p>“You look thirsty. I’ll have tea sent up with supper.” Yuuri smiled, slipping into his mother tongue for the polite request to his staff.</p><p>“You have a lot of staff.” Viktor commented after the majority of them had filtered out of the room.</p><p>“I don’t have any protection charms.”  Yuuri motioned toward a velvet-covered chair. Viktor nearly missed it,  his attention on the table with the blue-and-white glass poodle arranged with the other gifts he had sent Yuuri.</p><p>“Why not? Isn’t it kind of…” Viktor bit his tongue before he said ‘foolish’  “Dangerous?”</p><p>“My parents banned the use of magic after...me.” Yuuri followed Viktor’s eyes to the table. He turned the key of the music box Viktor had ordered for him, filling the room with delicate notes.</p><p>“Oh.” Viktor watched the music gear turn in Yuuri’s doubly-gloved palm. “Do… did your parents realize that they can touch you?” Every spell had its little intricacies and cleverness. It was how Viktor won at everything he attempted--  his birth blessing said everything he touched would be ‘like gold’, and the nuance in the spell meant he excelled at everything he tried instead of turning everything to a soft metal.</p><p>“My mother did, right away. But when I was little I didn’t understand, and it was easier not to risk me touching anyone.” Yuuri set down the music box. “Your fingers are still stained with ink. Do you enjoy shodou that much?”</p><p>Viktor was forgetful, but he wasn’t stupid.  “I packed it with me and practiced nightly. It soothes my nerves almost as much as you do.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>  </p>
</div><p>Yuuri tipped another serving of sake into Viktor’s cup, the clay bottle clinking against the edge of the cup. They had already spent the day at the royal hanami, but now, under starlight-tinted cherry blossoms, they could share the same picnic blanket and drink.  Yuuri nibbled on a senbei rice cracker, his thigh warm against Viktor’s.</p><p>“It’s no fun if you drink without me.” Viktor whined, lifting his cup to Yuuri’s lip. It was nearly the end of his two-week visit, and he was already dreading the hours he would have to spend with only the thought of Yuuri to accompany him.</p><p>“I can’t be careless.” Yuuri took a small sip, obliging him nonetheless.</p><p>“Then I’ll have to be twice as careless.” Viktor pouted. Yuuri rolled his eyes and picked up a sweet, rolling the ball of mochi between two of his fingers.</p><p>“Yuuri,” Viktor said stubbornly, raising his voice just enough to get his attention.  “Am I that easy to ignore?”</p><p>Yuuri looked up at him through his eyelashes. Viktor knew it was not on purpose-- Yuuri was very purposeful in all of his movements, but he never demanded to be touched-- but he let himself be pulled closer to Yuuri. Let himself press his lips to Yuuri’s-- let himself drink in the soft gasp from Yuuri’s lips.  He let his fingers tangle in Yuuri’s hair as he kissed down his jaw and along the curve of his neck.   They fell back amongst the grass and fallen petals, Yuuri gasping his name, kissing until Viktor tasted salt. </p><p>“Yuuri? Did I hurt you?”  The pleasure glowing deep in his belly stamped down to embers at the tears streaming down Yuuri’s cheeks, his hands knotted in and pulling at his hair. “Please-- you can say no-- tell me to stop. I’ll understand.”</p><p>“Mnn--” Yuuri made a soft disgruntled sound, moving his head slightly.  “More. Don’t stop-- I… I want to kiss you.”</p><p>Viktor waited until Yuuri opened his eyes, his grip tightening on his hair and his jaw set in growing frustration.</p><p>“More. Yes?”  He asked once again before moving another centimeter.</p><p>“Yes,”  Yuuri grunted, fresh, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Please.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>    <br/>   </p>
</div><p>Yuuri isn’t present at the farewell ceremony,  but frustration is tempered by expectation-- he is waiting in Viktor’s room when the ceremony ends and  they retire for a light meal before the first leg of their return home.  Viktor devoured Yuuri instead, lifting him onto the dining table and committing the taste of him to memory. Yuuri chastly sits on his hands, his soft gasps and bitten off words making up for the lack of touch.   Viktor left a bruise just below Yuuri’s collar, and Yuuri turned a kiss into a burning trail to leave one behind his ear as a parting gift.</p><p>“Stay,” Yuuri gasped, his fingers curling under his thighs and toes curling inside his house slippers.</p><p>“I would, but my mother already threatened to drag me out by my ear,” Viktor said, the words bitter until he focused on the weight of Yuuri’s head on his shoulder instead.</p><p>“Stay close to me,” Yuuri’s voice vibrated in his bones. “Then she can’t.”</p><p>“Oh Yuuri, don’t do this to me,” Victor kissed his prince’s ear. “I’ll see you the moment I can. I promise.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>    <br/>  </p>
</div><p>“Your mother’s patience is wearing thin, Vitya.” Lilia pulled open the curtains in Viktor’s bedroom, but it did nothing to inspire him to move or to lighten his mood. “Two weeks in bed. Your people are worried that you are on your deathbed.”</p><p>“My heart resides across the ocean.”  Viktor muttered into his pillow. “It’s a fate far worse than death.”</p><p>Viktor doesn’t need to see it to know Lilia is rolling her eyes and calling upon God to give her strength.</p><p>“It’s in the news, which means word will get back to your beau. Don’t kill him with worry for your dramatics.”</p><p>“Just because you have never felt love--” Viktor sniffed, his retort interrupted from a knock at the door.</p><p>“A gift from the Crown Prince Phichit Chulanont,your highness. Marked for urgent delivery.” The guard announced. Viktor waved his staff in, rolling over in bed to accept the brown parchment-wrapped package.</p><p>“Thank you,” Lilia prompts, and Viktor can’t find it in himself. He pulls the string and paper off, setting the wax-sealed card  on his lap to reply to later.  </p><p>“Is Bangkok known for mirrors?” Viktor can’t separate the listlessness from his voice. It is pretty--the square  frame is wrought iron forged into swirling patterns. Before Lilia could answer, light swirls to life on the surface of the mirror, brown paper peeled away to the image of  Viktor’s dearest person.</p><p>“Yuuri?” Viktor picks up the mirror at the same time Yuuri does, thousands of kilometers away.  Instead of reflecting his own image, the mirror is a window into Yuuri’s room, and more importantly, to Yuuri. </p><p>“Viktor!” Yuuri gasped-- he doesn’t look much better than the prince of petersburg-- with dark circles under his eyes and a pink nose.  Viktor felt his face stretch with a smile for the first time in weeks.  “I thought-- Phichit?”</p><p>Viktor peels the wav seal off of the royal stationary on his lap.  “He signed the card-- Is that “I’m too… tired… for this?” Viktor read off the card. Yuuri laughed at the strange message and shook his head.</p><p>“My parents don’t allow enchanted items… but Phichit is always a special case.”</p><p>“God bless him.” Viktor breathed, tracing the shape of Yuuri’s face in the glass.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>    <br/>  </p>
</div><p>The mirrors make their separation easier. They talk daily, with nearly every meal possible with the distance between them. Royal visits happen once a year at most, so Viktor spends his time researching new treaties important enough to require a ceremony. His efforts are fruitless, and soon enough it looks more likely that war will happen before Viktor manages another state visit.</p><p>Winter solstice sneaks up on him like frost across a windowpane . The preparations for Viktor’s  birthday occur around him without notice-- his attention is focused on the library and Yuuri.</p><p>“She trailed in mud down the entire carpet-- Lilia looked ready to murder the handmade, but Makka looked no different!” Viktor recounted the story to his mirror, barely noticing Yuuri’s strange dress. He knew he was listening-- most Hasetsuan speakers made noises to confirm their attention.  He paused at the knock on his door, before ignoring it in favor of his story.</p><p>“It took four adults to bathe her with me. She thought it was a game. Mila--”  Another knock at his door came.</p><p>“I think you should get that.” Yuuri’s voice came from the mirror, but the image was only black woolen fabric-- a cover or something. Yuuri was shy, after all.</p><p>“What do I have attendants for?” Viktor pouted, trying to remember where he was in his story.”</p><p>“Vitya.” Yuuri said firmly.  Viktor sighed, getting off of his loveseat and walking to the door.</p><p>“I ask you to do one j---” Viktor’s words died on his lips at the figure in a black cloak and hood,  wrought iron mirror held against their chest.</p><p>“Surpise,” Yuuri’s eyes sparkled.</p><p>“Yuuri!” Viktor gasped. “Does anyone know you’re here?” There was only one guard at the end of the hall, the rest of the castle and the prince protected by numerous charms.</p><p>“My parents.”  Yuuri let Viktor pull him up onto his toes, every inch of his skin outside of his face covered with fabric or wool.  “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi.” Viktor breathed. It was Yuuri-- real Yuuri. His hair smelled like him, his cloak smelled like him. He felt like Yuuri. He couldn’t manage any more words, hugging him tightly instead.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>  </p>
</div><p>The traditional visit to the Kazan cathedral  on Viktor’s birthday is someone more bearable with Yuuri close by.  The candlelight warms his tan skin and cast handsome shadows. No one will know that Yuuri’s purple cape is borrowed, or the fur hat tied around his chin is a hurried gift. Despite the national religion differing highly from his home country, Yuuri holds himself perfectly throughout the ceremony. Viktor’s holy-oil painted cheeks sting from the cold that pervades the old building, but his heart is warm when they walk inside, alone but for the queen and her private guard.</p><p>“I have something for you.” Yuuri whispers, as if not to disturb the heavy stillness in the main worship hall.</p><p>“All I want is already in my hand.”  Viktor paused, turning to squeeze Yuuri’s gloved hand in his.</p><p>“Take off your glove.” Yuuri ignored him, his own hand fumbling underneath his cloak.  Viktor obeyed, knowing better than to fight Yuuri when his hands tremble so.</p><p>“Yuuri… is this?”  Viktor reached out-- they had only a few hours together, but he had already fallen into their familiar gravity.</p><p>Yuuri’s cheeks burned a deep red, and it took several minutes before he managed to slide the gold ring onto his finger. “This what?” Even his voice trembled.</p><p>“An engagement ring?” Viktor blinked hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but summoning more instead.</p><p>“Do you want it to be?” Yuuri’s brown eyes lift to Viktor’s blue ones. Viktor can’t even feel the spark of irritation or disappointment. Yuuri really  asked him  permission, and not to be coy.</p><p>“I do.”</p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
  
</p>
</div><p>Yuuri’s ring is ordered and delivered the next day, along with a chain for it to hang around his neck.  The queen signed  the announcement  before lunchtime, and by dinner Viktor believes the image has been projected across both of their kingdoms. </p><p>Viktor gets the day with Yuuri, away from meetings and feeding gossip. Viktor is antsy, filing down and shaping his nails, unsure which color polish highlights gold best.</p><p>“I wish you could do this instead of just watching me,” Viktor doesn’t feel unnerved by Yuuri’s staring, just saddened by the double-layered gloves Yuuri wore around him.  He had started wearing arm-length gloves underneath his usual leather ones since their last visit, and continued to do so despite the layer of fabrics in his traveling outfits and visiting wardrobe.</p><p>“I’ve never seen your hands.” Viktor continued after Yuuri shrugged. </p><p>“You wouldn’t like them.”  </p><p>Viktor scoffed, pretending he was  far more insulted than he was. “I love every  bit of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I bite my nerves onto my nails.” </p><p>“Every bit.”</p><p>“You’ll never see them. I won’t risk it.” Yuuri said, his tone firm enough that Viktor did not dare deny it.</p><p>“Help me paint mine, then?<br/> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
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    <br/>
    
  </p>
</div><p>The wedding planning started right away,  which meant that Yuuri had no excuse to leave  only to turn around and return to Petersburg for the first of their two weddings.</p><p>Viktor enjoyed it entirely too much-- he took the time between meetings and tailor visits to walk with Yuuri, letting him throw a leather ball for Makkachin as they trudged through the snow. They took a private tea afterward, where Viktor took his time to warm Yuuri back up and get him used to Petersburg conditions.</p><p>“Get it!”  Yuuri threw the ball again, smiling as Makkachin bounded after it.  His breath came out in a large cloud in the cold midwinter air.</p><p>His smile dropped when Makkachin didn’t bound back as quickly as she usually did-- her eager bark turning into a sharp winter. </p><p>“Makka?” Viktor let go of Yuuri’s hand,  stepping off the shoveled path and into the rest of the gardens.  “What’s wrong girl?”   He frowned when he rounded a shrub, only to see a heavily cloaked man holding her back by her collar, her ball just out of reach.</p><p>“What are you doing? Let her go.” Viktor growled. “Yuuri, get the guard--” The words died in his throat when he turned around, only to see a similarly wrapped man holding a knife to Yuuri’s throat.</p><p>“What do you want? You can’t hurt royalty-- the spells-- they’ll only inflict the wounds back--” Victor flinched as the evil grin on the man's face, the terror on Yuuri’s, and the crimson red swelling on the edge of the knife against his throat.</p><p>“Not on the Prince of Hasetsu, young man.” The man sneered. </p><p>“I’m not some child, I’ll be your king, you know.” Viktor snapped, before he clapped his hands over his mouth-- the second man's grip tightened on Yuuri every time he spoke. Yuuri was already pale, the blood from the cut on his neck thick enough to cover the accomplice’s hand.</p><p>“Sit.” Yuuri’s captor sneered. “Do as we say. Or he dies.”</p><p>Viktor sank into the snow, his knees no longer strong enough to support him.  “Don’t. Please-- I’ll do what you want. You don’t have to hurt him.”</p><p>“Oh, we need him.” The second man dropped his hand, peeling Yuuri’s gloves off, one hand at a time.  Yuuri’s hands immediately curled into trembling fists.</p><p>“Ah-- don’t be stupid.” The guard slid the knife down his throat, the cut shallow but long enough to be dangerous. “The only one you’ll be touching is your favorite prince.”</p><p>“No.” Yuuri gasped, his eyelashes thick with frozen tears.  “ I won’t.”</p><p>“Yuuri.” Viktor felt his own eyes sting. “I’d rather die by your touch than spend eternity knowing I’m the reason you died.”  He sobbed. “You have my permission and forgiveness.”</p><p>Yuuri’s eyes widened, the terror turning into outright horror.  “No! Never!”  Yuuri screamed, his head snapping backward as the man holding him tightened his arm around his neck. Yuuri struggled and the man always managed to get his fists wrapped around his hands before Yuuri could make contact. Viktor crawled his way through the snow, Yuuri ceasing his struggle once Viktor was within reach.The man loosened his grip on Yuuri’s neck  when Viktor took Yuuri’s hands in his.</p><p>“How can  you ask me to kill you?”  Yuuri croaked, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks as he stared at Viktor, on his knees, pressing kisses to his knuckles. </p><p>“I love you, my solnyshko.” Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s hand. “Please.”</p><p>Yuuri’s retort was cut short, and Viktor felt warmth drip down onto the crown of his head, the blood rolling down and soaking into his hair before it fell into his eyes.</p><p>Viktor tumbled backward, Yuuri’s weight pinning him down. His cold hands cupped his face, Yuuri’s mouth not  as graceful nor gentle, his kiss all teeth and salt and desperation. Viktor closed his eyes, trying to remember Yuuri’s touch instead of the terror in his eyes, willing  his last moments to be a reflection of his happiness and not his fear. Not Yuuri’s heart-wrenching sob that shook his entire body and the haunted wail that rose from him like a jailed songbird.</p><p>Makkachin barked, the world around them oddly quiet but for Yuuri’s tormented cries.. The bark echoed. Viktor waited. Yuuri slid onto his chest,  pulling handfuls of his shirt into his fists, his throat raw with emotions.</p><p>Viktor opened his eyes, his eyes focusing on the snow-gray sky. He smiled, pulling Yuuri’s hands from his shirt.  Yuuri, too stunned to react, lifted his head and watched silently as Viktor pulled open his fist, tracing the outline of his hand before pressing a kiss to the palm.  Before Yuuri could wrap his tongue around a word the air was knocked out of his lungs. Viktor rolled, throwing Yuuri into the snow beneath him in time for the second man’s dagger to sink into his back. Yuuri watched over Viktor’s shoulder as the blade stuck out from the man’s shoulder instead. Viktor’s ears rang-- and he didn’t know it was from Yuuri’s screams, the insufferable silence from him now, or from the layers of protective charms that saved him.</p><p>Makkachin barked again-- this time her paws bouncing off Viktor’s back. The other man had let her go, the second man laying in the snow-- more than likely dead.  But he didn’t matter-- what mattered was underneath him--- with blue lips and a red neck, his skin pale even amongst the thick snow.</p><p>“Makka, go fetch Yakov.” Viktor breathed, patting her side. Yuuri’s nose was pink with cold, his hair dusted with snowflakes, his eyelashes thick with tears-- but he breathed, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.</p><p>“Yuuri.” Viktor pushed himself onto his knees-- realizing they were weak and shaky from nerves. “Solnyshko. Open your eyes?” Viktor reached for his glasses, picking them up from the snow where they had landed after  being thrown off during their tumble. He pocketed them, before lifting Yuuri up out of the snow. He barely kept his footing, but the movement convinced Yuuri to open his eyes</p><p>“My gloves--” Yuuri rasped, arching his back and almost upsetting Viktor’s precarious balance.</p><p>“You don’t need them-- you didn’t kill me, love.  You  didn’t do anything.” Viktor grunted. He took two steps before his staff appeared, blades at the ready.  Viktor let them lift Yuuri from his arms-- only because he knew they would reach the doctor faster than his own body would allow.</p>
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</div><p>“You did well, your highness. After recovering his fluids and gathering his nerves,  Prince Yuuri of Hasetsu will make a full recovery.” The physician clapped Viktor on his shoulder. The words didn’t mean much-- Yuuri hadn’t said a single word since Viktor was allowed into the infirmary. Even after Viktor requested a simple green tea instead of the  date flavored rooibos, Yuuri’s hands shook too much to safely hold the cup to his lips. So Viktor did it for him, lifting the fine china from the  bedside tray to his lips.  Viktor’s eyes wandered to the bandages wound around his fiance’s neck, down to the linen shirt hanging low on his collar bone.</p><p>“Ah. My apprentice is cleaning it now.  Jean?”  The black-haired apprentice brought the gold chain and ring on a piece of felt.   Viktor took it, pulling the chain until he  broke the clasp. The ring rolled into his palm, and Yuuri didn’t resist when Viktor took his right hand and slid the ring onto his finger. It was a little too large, but the sight  of it on Yuuri’s slim fingers buoyed Viktor’s mood.  He pressed his hand against Yuuri’s, finally  managing to get his eyes  to focus on something outside of his own mind.</p><p>“We match,” Viktor smiled. Yuuri pulled his hand back, but Viktor followed, keeping their connection until Yuuri slid his hand down, his fingertips tracing the veins in Viktor’s wrist.</p><p>“I wish you’d tell me what is on your mind.” Viktor whispered, watching Yuuri’s hollow gaze follow his touch.  </p><p>“It all was pointless,” Yuuri murmured, dropping his hand to fidget, spinning his ring around his finger.</p><p>“What was?” Viktor frowned.</p><p>“Everything.” Fresh tears sprung to  Yuuri’s eyes, but he didn’t make a sound, focusing on spinning the ring on his hand instead.  “I denied you for so long. I grew up like this. For what?”</p><p>Viktor watched Yuuri’s hand, trying to come up with an answer, or at least something to comfort him. The head mage had examined  Viktor thoroughly-- finding his life energy and length to be intact and the same as what had been predicted when he had reached adulthood.  Yuuri’s touch had done nothing to change him.</p><p>“You already had my life and love.”  Viktor cleared his throat. “Perhaps that’s why nothing happened?” He reached out for Yuuri’s hands, stilling them before he could continue picking at his cuticles.</p><p>“Stop touching me,” Yuuri’s voice rose unevenly, anger burning at the edges. </p><p>Viktor withdrew his hands, folding them behind his back without a thought.  It was a familiar pose-- it was how Yuuri held himself, when not sitting in a hospital bed.</p><p>“Lyubov,” Viktor breathed, a foolish  smile lighting up his face. </p><p> Yuuri’s anger, however, still simmered under the surface. “There’s nothing to smile for, Viktor. It’s too much-- leave if “  Yuuri snapped, the anger disappearing from his tone the second he saw Viktor rise to his feet and turn his shoulder.  “Viktor?”</p><p>Viktor didn’t know if he wanted to feel terrible at how small and scared Yuuri sounded, or overjoyed.</p><p>“Tell me to do something else.”  Viktor bounced on his heels, his heart floating a mile above him.</p><p>“What?” Yuuri’s voice was meek and wet sounding. </p><p>“Tell me to do something--like-- tell me to sneeze.”</p><p>“Sneeze?” Yuuri  repeated, confused. “I want you to come back.”</p><p>Viktor sank back into his bedside chair, folded his hands in his lap. His eyes sparkled when Yuuri lifted his eyes, watching him carefully.</p><p>“Whistle.” Yuuri spoke, and Viktor’s lips rounded, his cheeks heating. He had told Yuuri in a letter that he had never learned to whistle as a child. The  whistled note faltered after a few seconds, Viktor’s smile too hard to hold back.  Yuuri’s previous request was hard to ignore-- but Viktor was creative. He climbed onto Yuuri’s bed, peppering kisses over his lips and cheeks.</p><p>“Yuuri-- lyubov-- my Yuuri--” Viktor laughed.  “My life is yours-- I am your servant.” More laughter bubbled up, while Yuuri sat, still in shock.  “By only your will, solnyshko-- what a blessing you have!”<br/> </p>
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</div><p>Despite the good news, Yuuri’s mood did not improve.  He protested Viktor moving into his room, stiffened when Viktor climbed into bed with him and kept him company.  He did that even after their new routine spanned several days. Viktor could see it in Yuuri’s posture and irritated pink bitten nails. </p><p>“I’m not hungry.” Yuuri was stubborn to a fault, refusing  Viktor even when he sat on Yuuri’s lap, soup spoon in hand.  He stayed in bed, beneath fine quilted covers spun around him like a cocoon. Viktor ordered a second set, with a larger quilt to camouflage the separate sheets beneath.</p><p>“Yuu-ri,” Viktor sighed and set down the bowl of stew on the nightstand. He cupped Yuuri’s face in his hands-- his skin still  worryingly pale -- and rubbed his thumbs along the permanent frown that had taken a seat on Yuuri’s lips. But instead of the shy smile he expected to bloom on his face, Yuuri’s mouth twisted, a strangled  noise escaped from his mouth as he shoved Viktor away, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. </p><p>Before Viktor could  jumble together a response, Yuuri wrestled out of the sheets and ran. He ran to the door barefoot and only in a thin nightgown, the door left ajar behind him.</p><p>Viktor sat on the bed, utterly lost,  the ghost of Yuuri’s hands on his chest burning into his skin. But it wasn’t a spell-- it was the sting of  rejection.</p>
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</div><p>“Mother,”  The evenness in Viktor’s voice was fragile. “You called for me?”  </p><p>“Vitya. Come sit. I have some errors I have to remedy.” The queen patted the back of the chair opposite of her desk.</p><p>“I’m not really in the mood.” Viktor replied. He hadn’t seen Yuuri, and it was already well past lunch.</p><p>“The Royal family of Hasetsu arrived  an hour ago. Via magical transport.” Viktor’s mother folded her arms elegantly across her chest.  “I was informed that Yuuri was found wandering the halls half-dressed and red-eyed.”</p><p>“I don’t understand, mother,” Viktor burst out, his own eyes stinging.  “I thought he’d be happy-- we found the men who tried to usurp the throne, he isn’t really cursed. But he’s still unhappy.”<br/>
The queen hummed. “And do you know why?”</p><p>“Well… he just went through a lot… He was upset  when I touched him… but he can’t hurt me.” Viktor faltered. </p><p>“Has he said so?” The queen sank into her chair, tapping her fingers on her desk.  Viktor shook his head. “It seems I need to do better in training my son in the workings of being a good husband. Vitya, if there’s anything I’ve learned… it’s to ask first.”</p>
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</div><p>“Stop fussing.  I’ve worked with your family for thirty years-- a little magic isn’t going to force me to your will.” Minako slapped Yuuri’s shoulder. He remained just as stiff, tugging his newly replaced  gloves up his wrist again and again. Yuuri blinked rapidly, staring down at the shining wood of the dance floor-turned ballet studio.</p><p>“Aaa-aah, what is it really, Yuuri?” Minako set her hands on her hips.  She waited impatiently. </p><p>“You say that, but we both know how strong birth blessing magic is.” Yuuri’s voice was soft.</p><p>“Who do you think you are controlling? Your mother? She’s had to say no to you a million times. If you were really controlling her, we’d have a herd of poodles at home.” Minako rambled.</p><p>“If you were to control Viktor, little brother, wouldn’t his protection charms counteract that? He basically has four birth blessings.” Mari dropped her silk slippers to the  floor.  She had been called to pull her brother out of a mental spiral after being told he had nearly been killed. She had never been one to be  warm and cuddly.  But she did know her little brother best. </p><p>“You don’t know him as well as I do.” Yuuri worried his bottom lip and stared at his gloves. “He’s changed.”</p><p>“Of course I don’t know him as well. I’m not the one  with a massive crush  on him since I hit puberty.” Mari’s serious expression turned into a smirk as her brother’s face turned bright red. </p><p>“Yuuri?” Viktor knocked at the door, and said prince buried his face in his hands and whispered something about wanting to die.</p><p>“He’s right here.” Mari called out, slipping her bare feet into her slippers.  “Sensei and I will go stretch first.”</p><p> Viktor crept into the dance studio, relief flooding through him as soon as he laid eyes on Yuuri.  He looked a bit like a deer in the headlights, but he wasn’t running, and that was what mattered. </p><p>“Yuuri… what’s wrong?” Viktor squeezed his arms around himself, trying his best not to reach out to touch Yuuri.  “How can I help?”</p><p>Yuuri struggled to find words, picking at the seam of his gloves.</p><p>“Tell me anything. I want to help.” Viktor said in earnest. </p><p>“When you touch me… it’s too much. I… I  want to like it, I do! But it feels like my brain is overcharged.” Yuuri swallowed nervously.  “I just...I need to get used to it.”</p><p>Viktor nodded. “I understand. You spent your whole life avoiding touch, and all I want to do is have you close. It should be at your pace.”</p><p>Yuuri opened his mouth and  closed  it, hesitating before he closed his eyes.  “Before we get married you have to have a nullification spell.”</p><p>“A what?” Viktor’s eyes widened. “Why?” His heart raced-- his protection charm had been the only reason he was standing there that moment. Did Yuuri want him dead?</p><p>“I don’t want to lure you into  marriage.” Yuuri’s voice dropped so low that Viktor almost doubted what he had heard.</p><p>“Lure.. me into marriage?” Viktor repeated, stunned. “Yuuri...Do you think I’m bewitched into this?”</p><p>Yuuri didn’t lift his eyes-- didn’t shake his head or defend himself.  He nodded once, drawing blood from his bottom lip from worrying too much.</p><p>“Did I do something to make you think I was under a spell? That what I feel for you is anything but real?” Viktor’s hands shook from anger, but he swallowed it back. He reached out, lifting Yuuri’s chin with a single finger-- fearing he would hurt him if he used his whole hand. Yuuri looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks.</p><p>“Why don’t you trust me?” Viktor blinked, feeling the wetness spill over his own cheeks.</p><p>“I do.” Yuuri sucked in a loud breath and grit his teeth.  “It’s not about you.”</p>
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</div><p> </p><p>Viktor wasn’t proud of storming off, but it afforded him more time to arrange for  the grand mage, and for the mage to travel to Yuuri’s room without suspicion.  He waited with the royal figurehead in Yuuri’s sitting room until Yuuri emerged from his bath room, hair still damp and dripping.  He came out without a coat or a vest, but his gloves neatly in place. </p><p>“Your highness,” The mage stood and bowed, even though Viktor and the old man had been sitting together for a good ten minutes.  “I am here to attend to a nullification ceremony at the bequest of His Highness Prince Nikiforov.”</p><p>Yuuri blinked owlishly at the mage and his decadent robes. He took his spectacles off of the tea table, but the wide-eyed nervous gaze didn’t disappear when he slid them back onto his face.  “Thank you.”</p><p>“I am aware that your kingdom centers birth blessings at the head, and not the heart?” The mage ushered Yuuri into his old seat across from  Viktor. He nodded, his cheeks still ruddy from the hot bath and hour of ballet practice.  He hadn’t even replaced the bandage on top of the nasty stitches across his neck.  It was cruel to push the ceremony, but Viktor was selfish and his dry mouth could not form any words since he had sat down in Yuuri’s room.</p><p>“I see. I will remind you, your highness, that the effects of the ceremony are but temporary.”</p><p>“I understand,” Yuuri said softly. Of course he did-- if there was a way to remove a spell, then  Yuuri wouldn’t have grown up hidden away from his kingdom and starved of touch. </p><p>Yuuri closed his eyes when the mage drew the sigil on his forehead with a  red wax crayon. He kept his eyes closed when the mage did the same to Viktor’s breastbone, his unbuttoned shirt pushed to the side. But Viktor kept his eyes on Yuuri as the mage chanted in a language Viktor had never bothered to learn.  He watched the sigil above his heart burning as if it was a candle held to his skin. Any bitterness about Yuuri’s lack of trust evaporated in the split second that Yuuri  crumpled forward, his pinched brow collapsing into a full-body shudder. Yuuri pressed his fingers against his temples, then his face, his cheeks shining with quietly shed tears and his forehead  wet with a sheen of cold sweat. </p><p>“Stop--” Viktor cried out, blocked from gathering  Yuuri in his arms  by the mage. He felt a spark of anger, before remembering it was at his own request. He wiped the wax from his chest, smearing it before he struggled to button up his shirt. It took him three times to put on a pair of his own gloves, but half the time to kneel by Yuuri , curled into a ball on the couch)and scrub the sigil off onto the fine white leather.</p><p>“You didn’t say it would torture you,” Viktor blinked back tears. Yuuri had to squint to focus his eyes, his fingers keeping pressure on his temples.  “Yuuri, why? I love you all the same, and it kills me to see you like this.” </p><p>“I have to be sure,” Yuuri winced even at his own quiet voice. </p><p>“I love you more than magic can explain, Yuuri.”  Viktor hiccuped.  He stood, kneeling on the couch before he swept Yuuri up in his arms, cradling his head to his heart.  “Listen. Can’t you hear it? It beats only for you.”</p>
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</div><p> </p><p>“So you haven’t had skin contact for  over  a month?” Phichit fanned himself. “You know that you don’t rule the west lands, right? You don’t  have to act pure.”</p><p>“I want him to marry me because he wants to.” Yuuri stared at himself in the mirror of the honeymoon suite.  His embroidered white coat glimmered even in the low light. He feared touching anything but the fabric, for fear of marring the perfect color.</p><p>“You can figure that out without an extended cock-block, Yuuri.” Phichit hummed, his eyes widening when Yuuri’s cheeks flushed pink. “Okay, so you are human. And creative. Color me impressed.”</p><p>“Yuu-chan. It’s time to go,” Hiroko hummed in their native language from the door, knocking lightly. Yuuri shot  Phichit a look, tugging his gloves up his wrist one last time. Phichit scrambled ahead to find his place on the wedding dais. Viktor stood there, his head heavy with the crown that his father had worn decades beforehand.  His coat was just a white, if slightly more opulent and sparkling with each breath. He held his gloves hands in front of him, a vision of silver and white, an ethereal cake topper on top of  dais.</p><p>“Breathe.” Hiroko patted her son’s arm. Toshiya had already  taken his place next to the queen, an empty chair left between them. Yuuri felt woozy, drunk on the scent of fresh flowers and an empty stomach. He had overindulged on fruit and cake the night before after he was forced apart from Viktor twelve hours before their wedding. But nothing but water had passed his lips since he woke up that morning.<br/>
Hiroko pulled him forward when their cue played from the orchestra, the  music blunted by the rush of blood  in his ears. They paused at the bottom of the dais-- where Yuuri stopped, turning to bow at his mother and kiss her hand in parting. He paused, tugging off his gloves and letting them fall to the ground as he climbed the last few steps between him and Viktor.</p><p>Scandalous gasps rose from the audience when Yuuri pulled Viktor’s gloves off before the priest could open his mouth. The news of the attack had been kept under wraps, so the public at large imagined Yuuri still to be cursed. But no guard moved when Yuuri slipped his fingers around Viktor’s, a gust of wind kicking up  a whirl of petals around their feet.</p>
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</div><p>“Disgusting.” Yuri scoffed, downing another glass of champagne. It was the first event he was allowed to do so without Lilia or Yakov slapping it out of his hands. Everyone was too distracted by the wedding festivities to watch him too closely.</p><p>“Adorable, you mean.” Chris smiled as he took another sip of champagne, watching Viktor and Yuuri do the same, staring at each other with stupid love-struck expressions at the head table.</p><p>Viktor rubbed his thumb over Yuuri’s skin, their hands linked under the table. He ran his thumb along the set of rings on Yuuri’s finger-- both rings properly sized and the wedding band set with a jewel from the crown on Viktor’s head. Yuuri wore a smaller one, newly made for the first king-consort.</p><p>Viktor smiled when Yuuri’s eyes wandered to his again, his lips curling into a shy smile and the sip of wine turned into a gulp.</p><p>“Vitya, we have another two hours before we can be alone. Stop.” Yuuri hissed, squeezing Viktor’s hand underneath the table. </p><p>“So it is working,” Viktor smiled coyly. “Did you try the pickled mushroom?” He held one up on his fork, feeding it to his husband.</p>
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</div><p>The End.</p>
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